Will in Scarlet (24 page)

What was harder, more frightening, and, yes,
infuriating
was the dress.

Boys created suspicion, Will had said. Even serving boys, if they were caught skulking around the castle at night, would be detained and questioned. But a serving
girl
—a young kitchen maid, say, who’d drawn the unlucky straw of having to clean the privies late at night—well, she’d be allowed to pass without so much as a second thought.

Bloody Will Scarlet.

They’d found some dresses in a servants’ closet just off the kitchen. Will said they kept them there in case one of the girls
made a mess of herself during the dinner service. Can’t have filthy servants at a royal feast. Finding one that fit her skinny little frame was more difficult, but in time they found one that wasn’t too baggy, and they belted her in tight. A kerchief to cover her short-cut hair, and as they wiped the grime from her face, they revealed a fetching sprinkle of freckles across her cheeks and nose. Much the Miller’s Son was suddenly transformed into a pretty young manor girl.

If anything, Will mused, he was worried that she might be a touch too pretty, and he hoped she didn’t attract unwanted attention.

Too pretty?
Much thought. Bloody stupid Will Scarlet.

But in the end, he’d been right. They borrowed the jailer’s chamber pot (a particularly nasty piece of work), and with it Much strode defiantly into the courtyard, past the castle guards. An advantage of Guy using mercenaries as his guard was that there were always new men about, and they didn’t have time to learn the faces of all the household staff. Another stroke of luck.

Much took a deep breath as she walked, and she took a moment to smooth down her skirt before she nearly tripped over it into the mud. Much the miller’s daughter was so long forgotten she barely remembered how to even walk in these garments. Across the courtyard, Guy had erected a hangman’s gallows, and in front of that was the stockade. John’s and Rob’s hands and heads were locked in tight, and their faces looked misshapen in the torchlight. At least, Much hoped it was just the torchlight. She knew they’d been whipped and beaten, but she was counting on them being well enough to still walk out of here. There would be no carrying Little John.

Chained against the wall behind them were the rest of the Merry Men—Wat and those who’d surrendered rather than
fight. Not that Much blamed them. If they’d chosen to discover a bit of bravery during Guy’s attack, they’d have ended up in that pit with Gilbert. Though doubtless they’d seen what Much now saw—there were enough nooses on those gallows for them all.

Much took a deep, calming breath. If she and Will succeeded, if they managed by this foolhardy plan of Will’s to free the Merry Men and make it out of here alive, then her secret would be ruined forever. No one could look at Much in this dress and ever believe again that she was just a boy. It was nearly as terrifying a thought as facing Sir Guy himself, and walking through the courtyard dressed like that, she might as well have been naked.

But it was worth it if they could save John and Rob.

She’d just stepped out into the open when a horn sounded.

Much looked to the walls. Was that Will? Was that his signal? He’d said that he’d find a way to distract the guards so that Much could free the prisoners, but if that was him, then he’d timed it too soon.

But it wasn’t Will. Someone was at the gate. There was a great groaning squeal as the giant wooden doors were pulled open. Beyond, Much could see a small company of mounted men, and at their head was the sheriff himself.

Much froze on the spot as another figure strode up behind her. Sir Guy was flanked by a small guard of his own, including Tom Crooked. They were all armored to their teeth, but their weapons were still sheathed. As Sir Guy passed her, he gave her a curious little nod. Perhaps he was trying to appear regal in front of the wide-eyed young kitchen maid. She would’ve liked to spit in his face, but instead she did her best bow and curtsy. It was an awkward and rather sad show.

Unfortunately, Sir Guy and his men crossed right between
her and the prisoners. Not that she could do anything to help them now, not with Guy and the sheriff right there. She was frozen, not sure where to go or what to do. She’d suddenly found herself standing mere feet from Sir Guy and the sheriff.

If Will was going to create a diversion, this was a good time.

“You wanted to see me?” asked the sheriff.

“Knock it off,” said Guy. “You’ve got half of Nottingham sitting out there waiting to bury me! It’s a hell of a way to treat a friend.”

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” said the sheriff. “Hand over the bandits. Agree to pay restitution for the homes you destroyed. Then I’ll take my half of Nottingham and go home.”

“I’m not some poacher or pickpocket!” said Guy. “You don’t have the authority to arrest me!”

The sheriff pulled a scroll from his belt.

“I’ve been given the authority. This is a decree signed by Prince John himself. I warned you that you would go too far, burning down homes and harboring fugitives.”

The sheriff leaned in on his saddle and lowered his voice, but it was still loud enough for Much to hear.

“You’re making him look bad,” he said, smiling.

“Fine. Here are your bandits,” said Guy, pointing to Rob and the rest. “They’ll hang at dawn.”

“Those are not the men I’m after, Guy,” said the sheriff, pointing at Tom Crooked. “You let that lunatic and his thugs loose on my lands! The peasants are ready to revolt!”

“One hanged man looks as good as another,” said Guy, with a smirk. “Good enough for the peasants, I should think.”

“But not good enough for me,” said the sheriff. “My terms
are simple, Sir Guy. I ride back to Nottingham with Tom Crooked and his men in chains and you pay for the damage you’ve wrought, or I will take this castle by force. You’re outnumbered, and the walls of Shackley House won’t save you. And no one will come to your aid. You’ve made too public a mess of things. I’m offering you a way to save your head.”

Sir Guy smiled as he seemed to be considering this. Much began to wonder if the knight had truly and finally lost his mind.

“I’ll await your answer before dawn,” the sheriff said.

“You can have it now—” said Guy, stepping forward.

But he was cut off by a sudden shout from the wall. Two shapes were fighting up top. They struggled for a moment, then one fell screaming from the edge. As he did so, he grabbed hold of a large watch fire cauldron, pulling it over and raining fire down upon the stable beneath. At once, the stacks of straw took up the flame, spreading it to the wooden timbers.

Guy spun back around to the sheriff, his hand going for his sword.

“You rode in here under a banner of truce!” he shouted. “So you could send a sneak attack over the wall!”

With a shout, Guy charged toward the sheriff. Tom and the rest surged forward as well. The sheriff, looking totally bewildered, drew his own sword to defend himself.

Much understood what they didn’t—there wasn’t any sneak attack, at least not from the sheriff. Will had promised a distraction, and as the courtyard erupted into fighting, that was exactly what he’d delivered.

Then the sheriff’s soldiers and Guy’s mercenaries rushed toward each other with weapons drawn. Someone was shouting
to close the gate, while another was shouting for water to douse the spreading fire. But smoke from the burning barn was already filling the air as the flames quickly spread. The courtyard was in chaos, and Much was standing in the middle of it. In a dress.

There were ways to move around Shackley Castle without being seen, and in his years spent running from Nan and her paddle, Will had learned them all. One of his favorite places to hide had been the wall itself. Out the hallway window just past the kitchens there was a grinning gargoyle that one could use to climb to the drainage gutter. The gutter made the perfect makeshift ladder to take a nimble person all the way to the wall. Best of all, the gutter ran along the edge where the wall met the castle keep, and at night the shadows were so thick that anyone climbing it would be mostly invisible from prying eyes below.

Atop the wall, the watch fires still burned; few were manned. Everyone’s attention was on the sheriff and his men at the gate. The archers were the problem. Will needed to get everyone’s attention off the prisoners down there and onto him up here. But he needed to do so without getting stuck full of arrows.

Odds were he wouldn’t make it out of here tonight, but if he could create an opening for Much, she just might be able to
free Rob and John, and with a bit of luck, the three of them could escape in the confusion.

The gates were open; the sheriff sat mounted on his stallion as he faced off against Guy and his bandit-mercenaries. There wouldn’t be a better opportunity.

Will had just reached the first watch fire when he heard a board squeak behind him. He turned in time to see a guard not two steps away, ax in hand. Not everyone, it seemed, was interested in the sheriff.

Will was outmatched in size, but he had one advantage the big fighter didn’t—Will knew this castle. Milo and he would run laps around the battlements, earning curses from the watch guards. And it was dark up here despite the fires, and the guard was on uncertain footing.

Will pivoted away so that the watch fire was between him and the guard, making the man come to him. As the guard crossed in front of the burning brazier, he took a swing at Will, but Will parried it easily. The man wasn’t balanced well enough to put much power into his blows, and Will leaped to the side and stuck out his boot, tripping the man as he took a follow-through step.

The ax slipped from the man’s fingers, and he shouted in pain as his arm went into the fiery brazier. Instinctively, he jumped backward from the flame and right off the edge of the wall. But in his panic, he’d upended the brazier as well, and it toppled and then rolled off the ledge with him.

Will heard a crash below him, followed by a sharp whispering sound. He peered over the edge and saw that the whispers belonged to the greedy flames spreading over a heap of straw piled up against the stable. Milo’s stable.

Already he could hear the whinnies of panic from within.
In minutes, the barn itself would catch and everything inside would burn.

Will had begun searching for a ladder down when he heard a voice call out from below.

“Archers! Kill him!” shouted Sir Guy as he pointed up at the wall. Will knew the Horse Knight wouldn’t be able to identify him up here in the dark. But then, he didn’t need an excuse to have him killed. An arrow landed in the wood just inches from his foot. Below him, the rest of Sir Guy’s men were drawing their weapons and squaring off with the sheriff.

Will sheathed his sword before dropping to his stomach and crawling toward the edge overlooking the courtyard. Milo and he had once devised a dangerous game, wherein you would hang from the edge of the battlements and drop to roofs of various buildings below. It was quite a drop from the wall to the buildings, so you had to be careful when you landed that you didn’t twist an ankle or, worse, tumble off entirely. But back when he and Milo had made a sport of it, the rooftops hadn’t been on fire.

As he dangled his legs over the stable, he prayed that the same rising smoke that stung his eyes would make him a more difficult target for the archers. Below, the flames had crawled up the side of the stable and had begun licking the thatch roof. Once that caught, the rest would go up like tinder. Will kicked his legs as best as he could away from the flames and dropped.

He landed on the roof without slipping and quickly scrambled to the far side of the stable, the one that wasn’t on fire. From there, it was a small jump to the ground below. The courtyard was in turmoil as the sheriff’s men on horseback fought with Sir Guy’s foot soldiers. There were a couple of
riderless horses wandering about and several bodies lying on the ground riddled with arrows.

No one else seemed to have noticed him yet, so Will unlatched the door to the stable and, covering his mouth and nose against the growing smoke, ran inside. One by one he threw open the stalls, just barely dodging the panicked horses as they kicked their way free. By the time he’d freed them all, the stable was so thick with smoke that he couldn’t see the exit. He ran blindly, following the horse stampede out to safety.

After taking a few moments to clear his lungs, Will saw what he’d wrought. What had been a chaotic battle a few minutes ago had been transformed into pure pandemonium. The courtyard was filling with smoke as spooked horses ran everywhere. Servants had given up on putting out the fire and were abandoning the castle and running for the gates, while Sir Guy’s guards and the sheriff’s soldiers still hacked away at each other. And somewhere, in all of that panic, was Much.

All pretense of this being a sneaky rescue was gone. Much’s only goal as she weaved her way through the courtyard was not to get trampled. If Will’s aim had been to create a distraction, he’d succeeded. If his aim had also been to bring the castle down around their ears, he might well succeed at that, too.

With the smoke, the stampede, and the fighting soldiers, no one paid her any mind. By the time she reached the prisoners, the Merry Men were crying out for help even as they tried to cover their mouths against the smoke. But Wat and the rest of those scoundrels could wait. Much set about working on the locks to the stockade to free Rob and John.

“Who’s it?” croaked John, squinting up at her. “Who’re you, girl?”

“Stop talking, you giant oaf,” said Much. “Save your strength.”

“Eh?” said Rob, craning his neck to see. “Is that … Much?”

“You drunk, Rob?” said John. “This is a girl. Much is a boy!”

“Will you both shut up?” Much said. She couldn’t focus on the lock with the two of them arguing.